Standing around by some rose bushes, it occurred to me that I was mortal. Am mortal? So I looked really closely at the rose hips. I haven’t been looking at rose hips closely enough lately.
In a dream, someone showed me a picture of a scientist-looking guy (short regular haircut, beard, glasses) and told me he was a renegade phytobiologist. Well, not “phytobiologist”, but something that sounds a lot like it in a dream. And not “renegade” but something close.
Driving part way around a traffic circle on my way to work this morning, CD player tuned to Shakira’s Spanish songs, I wondered how a hermit crab knows when to leave his old shell for a new one. Does it just get tight in there, or is there a psychological component, like claustrophobia? And in between shells, when he’s running around naked, does he just feel vulnerable, or does he feel naked in a good way, like, “hell yeah, I’m naked, this rocks!”?